


Project Hannibal

by malchanceux



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Artificial Intelligence, M/M, Rape/Non-con - Freeform, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 13:09:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7935967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malchanceux/pseuds/malchanceux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal is an artificial intelligence. Will is his creator.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Project Hannibal

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt fill for: http://hannibalkink.dreamwidth.org/3166.html?thread=5880158

It all starts when Will is in 6 th grade. Once again, he’s the new kid. It’s the middle of the year, he stutters, can’t comfortably make eye contact, and he has a whisper of a Cajun accent in a Florida school. Needless to say, he doesn’t make any real friends that year.

So Will Graham retreats into a world of fiction. Book after book, fantasy world after fantasy world, he is never truly alone, even when no one—not even his mom or dad—is physically or emotionally there for him. He quickly finds a preference for stories about robots, about scientists, about  _ tech,  _ and with that preference, an interest in the reality of it grows. Will starts spending all his free time on his dad’s old, beat up desktop. When it breaks over the summer, Will takes it apart and puts it back together again over and over until  _ finally  _ it turns on and  _ stays  _ on.

School comes back around again, and Will finds himself nose deep in technical books instead of fiction novels.

Will is sitting in the back of pre-algebra doodling a picture that  _ vaguely  _ looks like a dog when the idea of Hannibal first comes to him.

 

 

The first time Hannibal successfully comes online, it is a glorified calculator. Will Graham is a college freshman, lonely as he was in middle school and just as friendless. He needs the practice with coding, it’s nothing special really. Almost a step by step process with Will using his above average understanding of technology to make it something  _ more _ . He wouldn’t dare make Hannibal settle for anything less than the unique.

Studying and work takes up a majority of his time, but he will always find a way to work on his passion, his vision. If he skips meals and doesn’t sleep, well--if his grades don’t suffer, then who has to know?

Hannibal is sleek in appearance for its generation—all sharp corners and subtle hues—and can certainly do better than 2 + 2. It graphs, factors, and, most importantly, solves word problems effortlessly, just as its creator can, though obviously faster. Of course, the calculator visage is simply Will stretching his legs and cracking his knuckles—getting used to programing from nothing and making it work. The fact Hannibal can  _ read  _ and calculate a train’s projected ETA from station A to station B is a step in the right direction.

Hannibal stays a calculator until halfway through Will’s fourth semester, where it is finally upgraded to a parody of a self-aware program—using a complex algorithm of Will’s own making to strike up simple conversations with the “real world”. No longer a glorified calculator, but now a bonafide  _ “cleverbot”. _

It can barely hold coherent small talk and Will couldn’t be prouder.

This is also when Hannibal is first given a stag for an avatar. The drawing is elegant in design and tastefully colored. Will had paid one of the undergrad students his whole paycheck for it, but in the end, it’s definitely worth it. Will thinks the imagery is perfect, almost exactly what he envisioned in his head. The stag gives off an ominous calm, the exact opposite of Will’s twitchy nervousness. The perfect ying to his yang.

Will keeps the same avatar for three years before upgrading, and even then he frames the original paper sketch out of sentiment and never tries to justify it to anyone who asks.

 

 

It’s not a day after college graduation that Lambs Industries approaches Will and offers him a job. It’s not a desk job per se, it’s an offer with a nice title and  _ great  _ pay. Alana Bloom, the woman who first approaches him, says they know about Hannibal  _ (by then, 5.0), _ and are willing to back him a hundred percent on creating something just like it, only one that meets their needs.

Will accepts when they tell him he can use their resources to “spruce” up Hannibal on his off time.

 

 

Four years on Lambs payroll and Will Graham’s program  _ Starling _ is responsible for compiling successful profiles for three separate serial killers. Jack Crawford, the head of Will’s department, personally congratulates him on his work before shoveling on another workload.

Will takes it in stride and makes a note to tweak a thing or two in Starling’s databank. His algorithm for observing, memorizing, and profiling human behavior is something he is very proud of, not because it helped real FBI agents stop psychopaths from killing people, but because it has helped bring Hannibal  _ (mark 11)  _ to life. It is not complete yet. It is not fully self-aware, but it is close.

Will shuffles idly through the work Jack wants to see him complete while thinking of raven feathered stags and wayward binary code. Starling’s algorithm is exactly three years and five months old. It was based off Will’s earlier designs from college. Programed to learn from mistakes, to collect data while tip toeing around the government agency it was “employed” to in order to  _ learn  _ and improve Hannibal’s system. Will thinks after three successful field runs and months and  _ months _ of patience on Will’s part, it’s time to upload what Starling had gained from studying its surroundings into Hannibal’s programing.

 

 

The process of “teaching” Hannibal is actually very complicated and time consuming. When Will first started working on his dream program, he knew that there’d be no magic equation to truly breathe air into Hannibal’s metaphorical lungs. Will wasn’t Doctor Frankenstein and the program wasn’t a corpse made of mismatched parts. Will was a lonely man with shit social skills and Hannibal a clusterfuck of code. There needed to be a process and program all of its own to make achieving true A.I. status for Hannibal reality and not just a computer geek's wet dream.

Will ended up nicknaming the process “Feeding” because he’d been hungry and too drunk to find his cellphone to order the pizza he so desperately desired. One of his assigned lab assistants—Beverly Katz—grilled him mercilessly for it after. Of course, Zeller and Price got ahold of the story not days after the incident. The name ended up sticking. To keep up with the joke, Will made the first test information filtered into Hannibal’s database with the  _ Feeding  _ process gourmet cooking recipes and techniques. Katz got a laugh, the test was successful, and well, if Will made sure to update that particular part of its datacash, who was really there to call him out on his sentimentality?

 

 

The Hannibal program’s first body is… not how Will had ever pictured it.

A bulky, big screened laptop sits on top a clunky old cart usually used for moving heavier equipment around the office building. Will had  _ “borrowed” _ the cart from the IT department one floor below, the empty stand under the laptops perch large enough to hold Hannibal’s bulky servers and still keep it easily mobile. Though the laptop screen has a built in camera, Will has attached a Xbox One Kinect to the front of the keyboard. It had been added at an impulse; and why not? In 2016 it wasn’t such a leap to have a system that could track its surroundings via infrared.

While Starling processes and moves all valid information from her hard drives into an empty drive to be sorted and “Fed” to Hannibal later, Will uses his slightly improved artistic skills to sketch out designs for Hannibal’s final physical look.

 

 

Four years, six months, and four days of working for a slave driver of a boss pays off and then some. After hours and hours and  _ hours  _ of pouring over Starling’s database, filtering it through the Feeding process, and dumping it all into Hannibal’s datacash in small portions as to not overwhelm its servers, the first mass Feeding is  _ done.  _ Hannibal is finally ready to truly come  _ online. _

Of course, over the years Hannibal’s databanks had been steadily filled with information—all of it long handed by Will until the Feeding process was perfected. If all goes well it will know who Will is, what he is, and what  _ it  _ is. It should be able to  _ think  _ past its programing and utilize the laptop to  _ speak. _

Will waits a few hours more, wanting conventional office hours to be over and his lab completely empty. As much as he likes Katz, this is something special. He won’t apologize  _ (especially not to Price or Zeller) _ ; this is a meeting he’s been waiting for since he first picked up a sci-fi novel back in middle school.

When the entire floor is deadly silent and every other lab pitch black, Will switches on the laptop and perches himself onto his rolly stool. The hard drives below follow suit and soon all the equipment is humming to life.

The laptop’s screen flickers from black to a pleasing dark blue. A sparse, elegant flannel check pattern is barely recognizable in the background, the head of a graceful Ravenstag taking the brunt of attention. It is as dark and calming as the first image was, with only slight changes to the outline and, of course, the addition of raven feathers. The webcam’s light turns green signaling the last of the programs are up and running. Everything is set to go. Now it all just has to  _ work. _

“Hello, Hannibal,” he says, his voice cracking with nerves. The program should still be able to read it clearly. Accents, slurs, and speech impediments had all been taken into account and recorded by Starling during her months of service. Will finds his chest filled with butterflies and his stomach ice. He feels as though he might puke.

“Good evening, Will,” the voice is clear, too crisp to be truly human, masculine, and… unexpected. Was that… Dutch? Something further East? He wondered why the program had settled on that particular accent.

“It’s nice to finally speak to you, Hannibal, and not just through code or a conversation app.”

There was a  _ whirring  _ noise from the laptop as the program processed what he said and compiled a reply.

“I find the sentiment likewise, Will.”

Will felt his lips tug up into a pleased smile. Hannibal was up and running and nearly complete. He could, in theory, think and talk and problem solve. Soon, he’d be a perfect A.I., completely self-aware, and Will’s childhood dream would finally become a reality.

 

 

“Good morning, Will,” the science tech hears as he enters his personal office. It has been three days since Hannibal first officially came online as a beta A.I., and Will had taken the liberty of setting up a speaker system in his office along with keeping the program on 24/7. It tested Hannibal’s durability, and—if the Will was being honest with himself—made him feel a lot less lonely.

“Good morning, Hannibal. Did I miss anything interesting while I was gone?”

“Jack Crawford called. He sounded particularly upset.”

Will sat on his stool and sighed. Of course he was, when wasn’t he?

“Nothing new then,” Will picked up a clipboard and pen from his messy desk and rolled his chair towards Hannibal’s stand, “I should probably call him, but I want to do a quick check up with you first, alright?”

“Of course, Will.”

“I’m going to give you a command. They’ll range from webcam checks to you flipping through miscellaneous files on your hard drive. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, good. First test complete then,” Will mumbled as he scribbled down a quick note, “I want you to filter through what you were Fed—there should be an MP3 file titled  _ Moonlight Sonata.  _ Access and play that file.”

After a moment, soft piano began to trickle out of the laptop’s speakers and flowed into the air. Will jotted down more notes.

“Alright then, I’m gonna lift up my hand and you’re going to tell me how many fingers I’m holding up,” said Will, balancing his clipboard on his knee and raising one of his hands to be level with the Kinect sensor.

“Three.”

“Very good. Very, very good,” Will mumbled as he recorded the program’s accuracy. He was so caught up in his notes, with Beethoven breezing through the air, and with his excitement over Hannibal that he didn’t hear his office door open, “I think one more webcam test and we’ll be done. What color is my shirt today, Hannibal?”

There was a short pause before perfectly punctuated, accented words replied: “Your sweater is beige, Will.”

“You got Hannibal  _ online?!” _

Will jumped in surprise and twisted around in his seat, dropping his clipboard and nearly falling off his stool in the process.

“I—I—uh.”

Beverly stood at the door, hands on her hips and lips pursed, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Um—”

“Wait, Jack doesn’t know, does he?”

Will sat stiff, looking at the floor guiltily.

“Technically, this isn’t a company project.”

Beverly rolled her eyes, smirking. “That’s not how Jack sees it and you know it. But hey—” She raised her hands up as if in surrender. “I won’t tell if  _ you _ don’t tell  _ I _ didn’t tell.”

Will slumps in his seat. “Thanks Bev.”

She puts a hand on Will’s shoulder—makes him jump at the contact; he might like her more than the others but he still doesn’t like  _ touch _ —and gives him a  _ look. _

“As soon as Jack knows Hannibal is online, he’ll try to get me to market it to the company again. I am  _ not  _ giving Hannibal away. It’s not for sale. It’s  _ mine.  _ I made Jack Starling—isn’t that enough?”

“Well, obviously not,” Beverly moves around Will so she can get a better look at Hannibal’s set up, “You don’t have to sell it to the company Will, but if I were you I’d at least offer the man something of equal value in return for him fucking off.”

_ Nothing could match Hannibal in value,  _ Will thinks, but instead says, defeated: “Alright. I—I’ll update Starling, or make a new program entirely. I’ll think of  _ something,  _ and  _ then  _ I’ll tell Jack about Hannibal.”

“That’ta boy,” Bev ruffles Will’s hair, and again he inwardly cringes at the contact, “Now put your man-pain on the back burner and show me all the tricks you’ve taught your little gourmet.”

 

 

One week after Hannibal comes fully online, Will wakes up drenched in sweat and completely taken by a fever dream.

He knows what he’ll create next to appease Jack Crawford.

 

 

Will fidgets with the tip of his tie. There is a loose thread there he’s been fingering most of the afternoon, though Crawford doubts the boy has noticed the state of the clothing or is aware he’s even been doing it. He’s sweating, a glisten over his forehead and upper lip. Will has always hated meetings, and having him lead a presentation was a lot like trying to bathe a cat.

Which is what surprised Jack when Will requested he and Board fit a meeting with the recluse project manager into their schedules. Even now Crawford did not understand what could have motivated the boy so completely, but with what he had just been shown, Jack didn’t much care.

“This new project of yours, what kind of projections are we looking at? How long would it take to get a working alpha?”

Will licked his lips nervously. “With my current assignments? I could have a demo up in approximately a year.”

“And if I gave you a team directly under your management and removed  _ Starling  _ from your workload?”

“Uh,” at this Will looks startled. It had always been made clear that he would be the head of operations when it came to the profiling program, and no matter what its updates and upkeep would take priority to all else. To be removed from the project after so many years of dedication…

Will’s brows stitch in thought, calculating carefully all the pieces that would have to come together for the proposed program.

“I could get you a working beta in a year and a half.”

“Good,” Jack stands briskly from his chair, reaching over the table to shake on it. Will reached forward knowing full well this was as good as any written contract with the burly business man.

Will took the offered hand with a confident grip. If it meant getting Hannibal online and free from corporate conglomerates, he’d do just about anything. And he was willing to bet his life once Jack got a real look at what Will had in mind, he’d agree to just about any terms to get it up and working as quickly as possible.

“I will get you a list of potential candidates for this assignment by Monday. You tell me who you want and I’ll figure out the rest. I want this off the ground and running in two weeks, the first formal status report on my desk by next month. Is that understood?”

“Absolutely,” Will said with an anxious enthusiasm. He gathered up his materials as quickly as was decent and shut off the projector he had used for the presentation while the  _ suits _ filed out of the room. With a secretive smile Will followed at their heels, a thin manila folder tucked under his arm with the a red pen scrawl of  _ Project Mind Palace  _ hastily written over its cover.

**Author's Note:**

> *One* day I'll finish *something*... :p


End file.
